Things Learned While Training
by Still Evil Flame
Summary: Ichigo learns a few lessons on the subject of dealing with Urahara while training to rescue Rukia from Soul Society.  Very early Soul Society Arc, no spoilers for new fans.


A/N: A snippet of the missing days that Ichigo trained at Urahara's before going to rescue Rukia. I have the greatest love for Urahara and his unconventional methods of getting what he wants. As usual, this is part of my Wicked Games series. See my profile for more details.

"If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?"

"What?" Ichigo barely managed to get his sword up to block his teacher's thrust. As it was, the blades skittered along each other, Benehime adding another cut to his knuckles.

"You know," Urahara beamed at him. "That sword of yours could really use a guard."

"I like it just the way it is," Ichigo grated out as he licked his knuckle and blew on it. "Can we just get on with this?"

His teacher chuckled, testing his defenses again from another angle. "Right, you haven't answered me."

Ichigo countered and slipped an attack of his own. "Hey shouldn't your sword have one then?"

The older man pushed aside his lunge effortless and smacked Ichigo's shoulder with the flat of his blade. "Generally, I don't need one."

The teen yelped and danced back out of reach. "Will you stop doing that? It hurts!"

"It'd hurt a lot more if I lopped your arm off. Not to mention what it would do to your balance." Urahara grinned like a maniac and attacked again. "Answer me. If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?"

"How the crap would I know," Ichigo growled, countering the barrage while he thought. "It doesn't matter, but I guess maple."

His teacher smirked, letting his student attack and get the upper hand for the moment. "Why?"

Ichigo's movements became more sure and smooth as he concentrated. "The colors, I guess. The oranges and the browns... they'd match my hair and eyes."

"Don't forget the red." Urahara flipped the boy's sword aside easily and slashed across his midsection, parting fabric and skin like paper. He then sheathed his sword and smiled. "I think that's enough for the day."

Ichigo clutched his stomach, carefully peeking between his fingers to see if his guts would come out or not. "Um, medic?"

"Pft! It's just a scratch. I'll patch it up after you get out of the hot tub."

Ichigo gave him a bewildered look, sword drooping from his hand into the sand. "Hot tub?"

The shopkeeper gestured over Ichigo's shoulder. "Third outcropping to the left. It should be hot by now. I'll go see if Tessai has dinner on."

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and shook his head in amazement. Nothing about Urahara should surprise him by now, but it never seemed to stop. He counted the rocks formations, glancing back over his shoulder. If this was some kind or trick, if Jinta jumped out and kneecapped him with that bat...

He stopped short, his destination reached. "Damn, there really is a hot tub."

Nothing he had seen in days looked as heavenly. He quickly shucked out of his filthy Shinigami uniform and climbed into the steaming, perfectly wonderful water and relaxed. With a sign of contentment, he let his head loll back against the faux marble rim. He was not thinking about how absurd it was to find a hot tub complete with redwood decking in the middle of an underground desert. Not when the warm water and jets were soothing his abused muscles and even the sting of his myriad cuts was melting away. He could almost go to sleep like this.

"If you were an ice cream flavor, what would you be?"

Ichigo jerked his eyes open and came nose to nose with Urahara. The man was leaning over him, appearing upside down, hat still pulled low across his eyes.

"Will you quit that?"

"When I stop sneaking up on you, I will."

The teen slung a handful of water at him. "And get out of my space! You're freaking me out with that!"

Urahara walked around to prop a hip on the opposite side of the tub. "Better?"

"I guess," Ichigo grumbled. "Now what do you want?"

"Answer first."

The younger man growled in frustration. "Pineapple."

"Pineapple?"

"Yeah, it's tart, not what you'd expect and most people would leave me the hell alone."

Urahara chuckled. "Some people like pineapple."

"So?" Ichigo prompted. "What do you want?"

"Dinner's ready as soon as you are up to climbing the ladder."

The teen groaned and ducked his head under the water, only coming back up when he couldn't hold his breath any longer. "I'll just stay here until I'm faint with hunger and drown then."

Urahara grinned and adjusted his hat. "I thought you'd say something like that. Let me see your left foot."

"Huh?"

"Eloquent as always, student of mine... foot."

"What are you gong to do to it?" Ichigo curled up closer to the wall of the hot tub, as far away from his sometimes demonic instructor as he could get.

"It's called reflexology. It's akin to acupuncture in the manner that you apply certain amounts of pressure to specific nerves..." As he fell into lecture mode, Urahara pulled up his sleeve and began fishing around under the surface of the water for Ichigo's foot.

"How do you know all of this?" The younger man thrashed back out of his reach. "HEY! Naked in here!"

Urahara stopped to wipe a bead of water off the brim of his hat. "Really?" He then tried to leer through the water at him.

"HEY! Dammit, will you stop that?"

"We could avoid this if you would just do as I say."

Ichigo swore under his breath and cautiously extended his foot his foot out of the water.

Urahara smiled and settled more comfortably on the edge of the tub, taking Ichigo's foot in both hands, running his thumbs up and down the sole, gently kneading.

Ichigo relaxed in the corner of the tub and used his hands to herd the bubbles together for a modesty shield. "You're pretty good at this healing stuff."

"I have to be to keep you around." The older man smiled faintly. "I've had some good teachers along the way."

"Where did you learn all this stuff?"

Fingers digging sharply into the arch of the young man's foot, Urahara laughed. "Like I said, I've had some good teachers here and there. The rest I make up as I go along. I'm better at that."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Whatever, don't tell me then."

"Feeling better?"

The redhead actually stopped to think about that. "Yeah, actually, I do."

Urahara smiled. "Good now close your eyes and relax."

"Not likely," Ichigo growled. "The moment I do, you'll dump a hundred pounds of ice on me or electrocute me or something."

Gray eyes widened under the brim of the striped hat. "Both very good ideas. Wish I had thought of them." Urahara grinned. "But in this case, straight up, you can trust me."

"Yeah, because that has worked so well so far."

A rare serious look graced his teacher's face. "You might not ever understand it or agree, but I have done everything I could in your ultimate best interests. I'd do whatever I thought I could to see you succeed and live up to what you can and should be."

"What the hell does that mean?" Ichigo asked plaintively.

"What does what mean? Urahara asked with a sly smile.

"The cryptic best for me speech!"

Urahara shrugged. "Ask me somewhere down the line and I will explain what I can."

"Yeah, sure." Ichigo cleared his throat. "Um, can I have my foot back now?" He looked down at Urahara's hands cradling his foot and lightly stroking his ankle.

"Oh, how awkward for you!" As he stood, the older man grinned. "Shall we go to dinner, then?"

"I'm still naked! What am I supposed to wear?"

"Didn't you think of that before you got in?"

"No," grumbled Ichigo. "I was just thinking about the hot water."

The blond clicked his tongue and set a folded towel and yukata on the edge of the tub. "I'll give you this one for free. Next time'll cost."

Ichigo eyed the pile. "Hey, wait, are those maple leaves?"

Feigning shock, Urahara lifted the towel. "They are! Imagine that!"

They both fell silent and stared at each other.

"Um," Ichigo said pointedly. "Go away, I want to get out."

His smirk hidden behind his fan, Urahara chuckled. "Such modesty."

"Such a pervert!"

The older man turned his back. "Go ahead then."

Ichigo nearly complained again but gave up when his stomach growled. He scrambled out of the water and dried off as quickly as possible before throwing on the robe and cinching it tight at the waist. "Let's go already."

They trudged back toward the ladder, Ichigo grumbling under his breath. "You really should have an easier way to get out of here."

"It's really not a big deal if you can shunpo."

"Yeah? Well I can't." The orange haired teen started hauling himself up rung by rung.

"Think of it as incentive to learn." Urahara waited for him to get just far enough ahead then began climbing himself, only occasionally looking up and right up Ichigo's robe. "Though actually it isn't all that bad."

"Hey!" Ichigo caught him in the act and kicked at his head. "What are you doing? Stop that!"

The older man dodged the kick effortlessly, tilting his hat back on his head for more shameless viewing. "Is it my fault you're offering such an irresistible view? If you were a bird, what kind of... Hey! My hat!"

Ichigo grinned to himself as the hat fluttered to the ground beneath them and concentrated on climbing.

"Crow." He answered some time later, contemplating the bite of chicken in his chopsticks.

"Is not!" Tessai glared at Ichigo over his glasses.

The young man shot him a dirty look. "I hope not and I was answering him." He hooked a thumb in Urahara's direction.

Urahara finished dusting off his spare hat and plopped it down over his hair. "Any particular reason for that?"

"I don't know really. They're pretty smart and I guess I just like them."

The older man sat down beside him and leaned over to steal a water chestnut off his plate. "That works for me."

"Gross, I could have spit on that."

"What if you had?"

"Then my germs would be all over it."

"Are you sick? Contagious?"

"No."

"So?"

Tessai's head turned back and forth between them with each exchange, like he was watching a tennis match.

"So it would still be gross," Ichigo answered defiantly.

Urahara gave him a faint smile. "Not _that_ gross."

"Gross enough and eating off someone else's plate is rude."

"It's my house, my food."

"I'm a guest. That makes it worse."

Urahara turned to look at Tessai. "Score?"

Tessai looked at the tick marks he had been making on his napkin. "Tied."

Ichigo looked confused. "What?"

His teacher smiled. "Tied is good enough for me. Let's have desert."

"No, really," Ichigo sighed. "What was that?"

"There are places you're going, people you will be dealing with that consider verbal sparring as important as the physical," Urahara replied, stealing another bite off Ichigo's plate.

"That's insane!" Ichigo pointed out, stabbing at Urahara's hand with his chopstick.

"That's Soul Society," Tessai muttered as he cleared the table.

Urahara brought desert to the table. The bowls of ice cream were decorated with syrup and skewers of pineapple.

The teen gave Urahara a flat look. "Very funny."

Making a big show of savoring every bite, Urahara ate his garnish. "I love pineapple."

Ichigo's expression darkened even further, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead he cleaned his bowl silently and then nodded to Tessai properly. "Thank you, dinner was excellent."

The big man fairly glowed under the praise. "Thank you, Kurosaki-san."

"Where's my thank you?" Urahara complained. "I've been an thoughtful attentive host. I haven't even made you earn your keep!"

Tessai snorted. "Which says something."

Ichigo stood, stretching broadly. "I will thank you, but I'm too tired tonight."

Despite his declaration, Ichigo was wide awake long after the rest of the odd household had fallen silent. He lay on his futon, still fully dressed, ears pricked in the near silence. Tessai not so softly in the room to his right. To his left, he could occasionally hear Jinta and Ururu tossing and turning. But from across the hall, her heard nothing at all.

Carefully, oh so silently, Ichigo slipped out of his room, padding barefooted across the hall, nearly jumping out of his skin as Mr. Yorichi wound around his ankles and seemed to smirk at him in silent approval. Ichigo scowled back and made silent shooing gestures until the cat sauntered away slowly. After another moment of listening at the door, Ichigo inched it open and eased inside. As the door closed behind him, the teen waited, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Holding his own breath, he listened to the steady cadence of his teacher's breathing. Then he smiled wickedly as he crept to the bed, pinning the sleeping man on his stomach, Ichigo's elbow braced between his shoulder blades for leverage. "If you were a color, what color would you be?"

Urahara woke with a start, struggling briefly against Ichigo's weight before relaxing. He peered at his student through his tousled hair. "Hm?"

Ichigo grinned triumphantly. "You heard me. Color, which one?"

His voice still rough with sleep, the blond chuckled. "Oh normally, I'd be that perfect shade of spring green that is nearly impossible to replicated." He shifted again, forcing Ichigo to use more of his weight to keep him pressed against the bed. "But... I think in this case, I'll say the delicate pink of embarassed dismay."

"Er..." Ichigo became aware of the compromising nature of their positions and turned the very shade Urahara had just described. "...right."

"Didn't plan this far ahead did you?" Urahara asked, his usual sharpness and amusement returning in an instant. "My, you do have a problem then. There are so many ways this could go from here."

Ichigo panicked as he say his advantage slipping away. "But I surprised you this time. I win."

"But..." Urahara did something that Ichigo couldn't quite track. The end result was Urahara slipping right through his grasp and pinning Ichigo to the floor instead. "Surprise alone isn't always enough."

The teen went very still, again nose to nose with his instructor. "I give, you win."

"Win what?" Urahara asked with a smile even more devilish than usual.

Ichigo's eyes widened. "Let me go you old pervert! I already told you to cut that out."

"But that was before you invited yourself into my bedroom in the middle of the night and..." Urahara trailed off into a high pitched whimper as Ichigo kneed him in the groin.

"I really hate repeating myself," Ichigo muttered as he got up and dusted himself off. "And I already told you to cut that out."

"Congratulations," Urahara groaned, not even bothering to sit up. "You have passed the course with flying colors."

"Does that means you'll stop asking me those stupid questions now?"

"Who ever said those were a part of your training?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and bit back a reply, more than ready to lose the argument to go get some sleep.

"Hey, Ichigo... if you were a color, which would you be?"

"Good Night, Urahara."

"But which one?"

Ichigo closed the door behind him deliberately, vowing he would never answer another of those stupid questions again and on second thought, he should add something about trying to surprise Urahara in there too.


End file.
